


Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by adamsnackler



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Ben Serious Office Man, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben is Annoyed, Big Man Work Hard JOb, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I'm still new at this, Kinda?, Light Angst, Mistletoe, Office Sex, POV Ben Solo, Rey is Brat, Rey likes Christmas, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Star Wars Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, also apologies for the terrible smut I'm awful at that, ben hates christmas, he grumpy and No Fun, he's Head of HR, let me know if I'm missing tags, yeah more that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamsnackler/pseuds/adamsnackler
Summary: Rey hangs up mistletoe in the break room the Monday after Thanksgiving. Head of HR and Ronald Rule Follower Ben Solo finds it highly inappropriate and takes it down. The next day, however, the offending decoration is back. Ben tracks down the perpetrator, vowing not to be seduced by the spirit of Christmas. But one look at Rey and he’s a goner, he just doesn’t admit it at first.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is.

Christmas was not Benjamin Organa Solo’s favorite holiday. He didn’t care for the peppermint mochas or the poinsettia stands on every corner. His oversized body was not built for ice skating and frankly he found the chaotic hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers a hazardous element of his morning commute. By the time he made it to his office the Monday after Thanksgiving he was half frozen, clutching his thermos of black coffee more for warmth than anything else, and eternally grateful that his office never seemed to decorate for the holiday.

Sure, there was an errant wreath or string of lights in a cubicle or two, but the best part of Ben’s job this time of year was the mere fact that all his coworkers were simply too _busy_ to bother with decorating for the holidays. The Human Resources department at First Order was always an onslaught of meetings, performance reviews, and other year end tasks that needed to be complete by the end of the year. All the hard work was well-rewarded with an annual “holiday party” which Ben happily skipped, bidding warm wishes and a happy new year to the few employees he saw on his way out the door.

Which is why, when he found himself in the break room at noon for his midday caffeine boost, he was shocked to find it decked out in twinkle lights and fluffy green garland. Walking through the doorway he nearly bumped his head on some sort of green and white garnish hanging by a red string. A wreath hung on one wall, adorned with a glittery wooden plaque wishing a happy holiday.

After refilling his travel mug he made his way back to his office, carefully ducking his head as he passed through the doorway to avoid the strange plant hanging there. Several Google searches and almost an entire cup of coffee later he had cracked the case of the mysterious object he had bumped his head on. Mistletoe, as it appeared to be, was supposedly a festive holiday decoration, and Ben had uncovered two very interesting and highly disturbing facts about the flora. One, it was poisonous, which not only posed a safety hazard but also possibly violated health codes (he would look up the official rules next). He also discovered that it was tradition to _kiss_ underneath the offending flora, a highly inappropriate activity for the workplace.

Something had to be done.

“Mitaka!” Ben’s voice boomed through the office floor.

“Sir?” Mitaka replied meekly, promptly appearing in the doorway.

“It’s come to my attention that there’s mistletoe hanging in the break room doorway. Take it down and then find out who put it there.”

Mitaka shuffled in the doorway, fumbling with the notebook in his hands. “Of course, sir. Right away.”

Ben nodded, silently dismissing his assistant without ever looking up from his emails. With the situation thoroughly handled he could finally focus on his actual deadlines and put the afternoon’s unfortunate incident on the back burner.

\- - -

Ben’s schedule Tuesday morning was packed full of meetings. In fact, he didn’t get a chance to grab something to eat from the break room until nearly 4pm. Head ducked low staring at his phone, the emails really never stopped, he entered the large room and opened the fridge. He grabbed one of the prepared sandwiches the company kept well-stocked in the shared refrigerator without even glancing at the label before heading back towards his office.

 _Smack_.

Slightly stunned, Ben shook his head and looked up at whatever he had bumped his head on.

The mistletoe was _back_. This time an even larger cluster with red berries adorning it. Brow furrowed in confusion and anger he reached up, grabbed the offending object, and marched over to Mitaka’s desk, throwing the untouched sandwich in a trash receptacle along the way.

Slamming the mistletoe down on his assistant’s desk, Ben growled, “I thought you took care of this.”

Mitaka grew visibly flustered, shuffling papers and fidgeting with his keyboard and mouse. “Uh, I did, Sir.”

“Then what,” Ben punctuated each word with his fist, “the _fuck_ , is _this_.”

Mitaka glanced down at the mistletoe then back up at Ben before returning his gaze to somewhere in the distance. “I, uh, I took down the one from yesterday but apparently there was, uh, more put up today.”

Ben glared at the small, meek man fidgeting in his desk chair and sighed. “Mitaka,” he said, trying to make his voice as level and patient as possible. “What is going on? Who is _doing_ this?”

“Well, uh, Sir, it’s Rey Johnson. The new sales intern…”

Having obtained the information he needed, Ben stood up straight and walked into his office, effectively cutting his assistant off mid-sentence.

Ben’s mind went a mile a minute as he sat down at his desk, entered his password and began to search the employee database for this Ray Johnson. He was fuming at the thought. Some new hotshot intern thinking he could put up mistletoe and what? Seduce his coworkers? Ben firmly believed that there was a time and a place for everything. Romance didn’t belong in the workplace. Romance belonged in, well, Ben wasn’t exactly sure what environment was conducive or fitting for romance (he was far too busy for such frivolities) but he was certain it wasn’t the workplace.

After typing the aforementioned name into the employee database and hitting the search button the page displayed no results. Ben rolled his eyes and shouted to Mitaka, “What’s Ray’s employee ID?”

“Forty-three twenty-six eleven,” came the somewhat muffled reply.

Ben typed the ID into the search bar and tried again.

 _Oh_.

Taken aback, Ben stared at his computer screen in shock. So Rey, as it turned out, was a woman.

Staring back at his awestruck face, was a company profile picture of a beautiful brunette smiling at him, positively _beaming_. Radiant. It was the kind of smile that caused your cheeks to dimple and eyes to crease, and Ben could actually see the joy nearly hidden behind her long dark lashes. It was the smile of someone full of hope, hope that there was still goodness in the world, that they were put here to have a positive impact. The kind of smile that Ben remembers he and so many other interns having when they first started working at First Order, before the corporate grind incinerated any last semblance of hope.

Ben closed his browser window and began to pack up his things for the night, still thinking about that smile.

He bet it would be gone by the end of the month.

\- - -

The mistletoe in the break room didn’t return until later that week. Thursday evening Ben decided to work late in a futile attempt to get ahead and avoid having to work on the weekend. It was routine, at this point, despite the fact that is had a success rate of exactly zero. This, this worthless last bit of remaining hope Ben clung to Monday through Thursday every week, was how he found himself in the break room at 8pm, trying to scrounge up something edible for dinner.

He finally decided on a pastrami sandwich and was just about to head back to his office when he saw it. Mistletoe. Hanging from the ceiling on a short string was a fresh clump of the toxic, _romantic_ decoration.

With a huff, he reached up and snatched it right off its string with a _snap_.

Running his free hand through his hair, he stalked back to his office, tossing the mistletoe in the nearest trash bin along the way. He pulled up his email and typed out a quick but stern memo to the sales department.

To: Sales

From: Benjamin Solo

Subject: Christmas Decorations

To whom it may concern,

It has recently come to my attention that someone is leaving inappropriate decorations in the shared break room. Please be advised that mistletoe is toxic foliage and has a particularly “NSFW” (Not Safe for Work) reputation and therefore is not appropriate for office decoration.

Thank you,

Benjamin C. Organa Solo

Head of Human Resources

\- - -

Friday morning Ben walked into the office none the wiser about the hellfire that was awaiting in his inbox. He was actually in a somewhat decent mood, confident that maybe, just _maybe_ , he had put in enough extra hours to actually take the weekend off for once. His black coffee tasted exceptionally good in his travel mug, he must have ground the beans and pressed them in the French press his mother had gifted him years ago _just_ right. In fact, he was in such a good mood he actually greeted Mitaka on his way into his office, causing the startled assistant to dropped the stack of papers he had been organizing all over the floor.

No, Ben had no idea what was waiting for him as he booted up his desktop and opened his email.

To: Benjamin Solo

From: Rey Johnson

Subject: Re: Christmas Decorations

To the Office Grinch,

Mistletoe is a wonderful holiday decoration, that frankly our bland boring break room needs this time of year. As we are all adults, I imagine no one will be foolish enough to attempt to ingest the “toxic foliage.” Nor will anyone partake in any “NSFW” activities as that would be highly inappropriate.

Furthermore, if you take issue with something, perhaps address the individual about it directly instead of sending a mass email to the entire department. Let’s try to be professional.

Warm regards & happy holidays,

Rey Johnson

Ben stared at his computer in stunned silence. This intern, this _nobody_ from sales, had the audacity to talk back to him? Who the hell did this girl think she was talking to?

Without thinking and against his better judgement Ben typed up a quick retort and hit Send. He normally wasn’t so rash, so quick to act. He thought things through. He overanalyzed nearly everything, sometimes to a fault. But there was something about this girl that got under his skin, something about her that caused him to act without properly thinking it through, like he was using something other than his brain to guide his decisions.

He realized it a minute after hitting send, that he should probably take it back. Thank goodness for the email recall feature, as long as she hadn’t opened it yet, he could unsend his hasty response. And what intern is rolling into the office before 8am?

Pulling up the email, he opened the dropdown menu and clicked the recall button.

An error message appeared on the screen: Unable to recall.

Well, shit.

To: Rey Johnson

From: Benjamin Solo

Subject: Re: Christmas Decorations

Miss Johnson,

With all due respect, you have not been with the company long enough to know what these hooligans will or will not partake in. I will not burden you with the specifics but between you and me I’d avoid the coat closet in the mailroom.

Also, who exactly do you think you're talking to that warrants such an attitude? Hostility in the workplace is unbecoming, Miss Johnson, surely you know that.

Professionally,

Benjamin C. Organa Solo

Head of Human Resources

A moment later the familiar chime indicating a new email echoed throughout Ben’s office. It could be from anyone, he reasoned. There was no reason to think it was from _her_.

Tentatively, he navigated back to his inbox.

Well, shit times two.

To: Benjamin Solo

From: Rey Johnson

Subject: Re: Christmas Decorations

Mr. Solo,

I think I’m talking to someone who hates Christmas for absolutely no reason. Perhaps the reason you’re so averse to mistletoe is because you wish _you_ had someone to partake in NSFW activities with underneath it.

Is this professional enough for you?

Most professionally,

Rey Johnson

P.S. Thank you for the tip about the mailroom coat closet. I’ll have to check it out later.

P.P.S. Also, I’d avoid the break room until December 26th if I were you.

How had she responded so quickly? What was she even doing in the office at this hour? And—

Wait. Was she _flirting_ with him?

No way, he reasoned. There was simply no way, he had to be interpreting this wrong.

He needed a second opinion. Someone charismatic, someone who could interpret inflection via text. He needed—

“Mitaka!” Ben’s voice nearly rattled every door and window in the office as he shouted towards his assistant. “Get Dameron up here before my nine o’clock!”

Mitaka’s mumbled, “Yes, sir,” barely penetrated Ben’s thoughts as he reread the email again and again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as he attempted to prepare for the day’s meetings. Why did it sting a little that maybe she was right about him being bitter and alone? He was used to being alone, resigned to it, in fact. It was just another thing one had to realize, sooner or later, everyone is alone in this world.

Only, that wasn’t necessarily true, was it? Ben had just convinced himself of it, because _he_ would always be alone. He was too intense, too focused on work, too blunt and awkward to really enjoy dating let alone be successful at it. So it was just easier to pretend that he was alone by choice, rather than a complete and utter lack of social graces.

Pulling up the docket for his nine o’clock meeting, he tried not to peer over at her email, still up in the corner of his monitor.

But what exactly had she meant when she said she’d check out the coat room later? He told her specifically _not_ to do that. Who knows what she’d walk in on if she meandered down there later. And when did she plan on taking this little field trip? After work, presumably. Maybe he should go down there later, just to make sure the coast was clear and she wouldn’t stumble upon anything inappropriate…

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

“What’s up, Solo?” Poe said, nearly bouncing into the room. “Mitaka says you’ve been grumpier than usual today.”

“How would he even know? I’ve been tied to my desk all day.”

"Ben. It's eight forty-five."

Poe slumped down into one of the chairs in front of Ben’s desk. Ben tried not to cringe at the monstrosity of an ugly Christmas sweater that he had decided was somehow appropriate office attire. After all, he had called Dameron into his office for a favor. Ben didn’t like to admit it, but Poe was the most socially adept person he knew.

“So,” Poe drawled, clearly enjoying this. “What can I help you with, Benji?”

Ben signed, gesturing for the man to take a look at the email on his computer monitor. “I’ve been emailing some woman named Rey in sales, and—“

“Holy shit, you’re the office grinch she’s been complaining about?”

“I’m— She what?”

Poe cackled, laughter bouncing throughout the office. “This is hilarious, although I have to admit not totally unexpected.”

“She complained about me?” Ben felt his chest tighten, the familiarity of walls being built back up, protecting him from the world. He hadn’t even realized that had come down in the first place.

Eventually Poe regained his composure, wiping tears from his eyes. “I mean, she called you the Grinch and said she’d coat your office in mistletoe if she ever figured out where it was.”

“How do you even know her?”

“She’s friends with Finn. He told her about the opening here.”

Suddenly Ben didn’t feel like sharing the email with Poe, closing out of the program entirely. He’d delete the conversation later. Burn the evidence, his father always said. Then he could forget all about whatever had transpired between them, whatever it had made him feel. It was nothing. She was no one.

And so was he.

\- - -

A week went by without any pesky mistletoe encounters. Ben had deleted his email conversation with whatever-her-name-was-from-sales shortly after Poe left his office that day, and he hadn’t heard from her since. When he left the office to head home for the day he had briefly thought about stopping by the mailroom just to fulfill his curiosity, but decided against it. The walls climbed higher and higher with each passing day, and he was slowly forgetting all about whatshername-from-whateverdepartment.

No one.

Time began slipping by more and more quickly, and before he knew it a full week had gone by since their brief email exchange. It was another late night, working well past normal office hours, and Ben’s stomach wouldn’t stop grumbling. He had taken _her_ advice and avoided the break room all week. It was easier that way, to pretend the whole thing never happened. He’d been packing protein bars and had even brought in a coffee maker for his office, and was overall pretty content with his new routine. But tonight, when he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk to fish out a protein bar that really didn’t constitute a meal, he found the drawer empty.

Shit.

He considered his options. The break room had the advantage of being quick, he could just duck in and grab something from the fridge and get back to work. On the other hand, take out meant he could avoid any unfortunate incidents waiting for him in said break room, but it would take at least thirty minutes to arrive.

The loud rumble emanating from his stomach made his decision for him. He could just shield his eyes from anything abhorrent in the break room, just grab his sandwich and pretend nothing else existed. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.

When he got to the break room he fully expected it to be decked out floor to ceiling in mistletoe. He had imagined, on his walk over, that the foliage would be so abundant he’d need a machete to get through to the refrigerator. So he was shocked to discover not a hint of mistletoe in sight. There was a pit in his stomach, a sinking feeling as he took a second glance around the room, confirming that no, in fact, there was no mistletoe in sight.

Why did that bother him?

He didn’t even bother grabbing a sandwich, his stomach full now with something else, and he made his way back towards his office. It reminded him of prom night, when he had shown up at Bazine Netel’s house, corsage in hand, hardly believing his luck, only for her dad to open the door and tell her that no, actually Snap Wexley had taken her to the dance. Ben had pinpointed that incident to the exact moment that he stopped believing in love. Love was a fool’s game.

And why the hell was he thinking about that moment now, of all times?

He finished up what he was working on and absentmindedly pulled up his email. It was habit, checking it every night before he left, but tonight he had decided to skip it. There was too much on his mind, and he really had no energy left to interpret emails. So just as quickly as he had opened the program he went to close it, when he saw her name in his inbox.

Well, shit.

To: Benjamin Solo

From: Rey Johnson

Subject: Mailroom Misinformation

Mr. Solo,

I’d like to report that you seem to have some misinformation. I’ve been to the coat closet in the mailroom every night this week and alas, there do not appear to be any unusual activities happening, NSFW or otherwise. I went ahead and put up some decorations down there just in case, but it likely will go unappreciated.

Yours,

Rey Johnson

Yours. Yours. _Yours_.

Ben repeated the word in his head like a broken record. One little word, one stupid pathetic little word, and he was right back in the thick of it. Surely it hadn’t meant anything, it was just a word after all, a quite common email sign off, most professional. Yeah, he was sure he had seen other work emails signed off like that, almost positive.

He just couldn’t think of them right now.

Quickly, he deleted the email. Delete and forget. Forget about the tiny little mistletoe gremlin begging to be fed after midnight. Forget about the big bright smile and the dimples and the twinkle in her eyes.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

 _Yours_.

Before he could make any foolish decisions, Ben packed up his belongings and headed home. He did not stop by the mailroom to check on the decorations that were supposedly there. He didn’t care about something like that. He never had any reason to go to the mailroom, would never have to see whatever she had done to it.

It was fine. This was fine.

Everything was fine and remained fine until Friday. Fridays after five the offices were nearly deserted, most people choosing to get a head start on the weekend, but not Ben. No, his office remained brightly lit, the hum of fluorescent ever present, until well into the evening. Just like every night.

He was so used to having the office to himself on Friday evenings that the slightest tap at his door nearly caused him to jump out of his seat.

Standing in the doorway was Poe Dameron, a mischievous smile on his face, coat in his hand and clearly up to something.

“You’re not seriously working late on a Friday, Benji,” he chided from the doorway, leaning against it far too comfortably for Ben’s liking.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

Poe shrugged. “Old habits, I guess.”

Ben rolled his eyes. He and Poe had grown up next door to each other, gone to high school together and even shared a dorm room in college. It was kismet, he supposed, Poe being his one and only friend. Best friend, one could say, although Ben would never dare.

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my work?”

“Yeah, actually. We’re all going out for after work drinks, you know, like normal people on a Friday night. Thought you might like to join us.”

Ben huffed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t do after work drinks. He didn’t do evenings off. There was a week left until the end of year deadlines, he couldn’t start slacking now.

“Finn said Rey will be there…”

Ben’s eyes shot up to Poe. Oh, so _that_ was why he had looked so smug. A knowing smile was plastered to his face, still slouched against the doorframe.

“I can’t,” Ben answered firmly, pretending to be overly preoccupied with whatever spreadsheet was currently on his monitor.

“Come on, Ben, it’ll be fun. You can finally meet your little mistletoe girlfr—“

“ _No_.”

Poe sighed, putting his hands up in formal surrender. “Ok, but if you change your mind, we’ll be at the usual spot.”

Ben nodded, still not taking his eyes off his computer screen. The numbers in the spreadsheet didn’t make sense, his brain spinning and chest fluttering and why was his breath caught in his throat?

After Poe left, Ben tried to focus, but he seem to focus. His heart raced, mind cloudy as he stared endlessly at spreadsheets and emails.

 _Yours. Yours. Yours_.

Letting out a huff of frustration, he decided to hell with it, he would just go home. Nothing would get accomplished tonight at this rate. Maybe if he left now he could get in a quick jog before turning in for the night.

As he stepped into the elevator and reached for the lobby button, he paused. It was so tempting to press the basement button. What exactly had she done to the mailroom’s coat closet?

Screw it, he thought as he pressed the small “B” button. He would settle this once and for all. After tonight he would finally know, and he could stop thinking about this random woman and her obsession with mistletoe.

The doors dinged open, revealing the cold drafty basement. It wasn’t anything special, a few offices for the security guards lined one cinderblock wall, while the rest of the space was open to the mailroom. In the far back corner was the coat closet, now merely a storage room. He made his way towards the room, giving himself a silent pep talk for no reason at all. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he tried to prepare himself for finding nothing more than a drab storage room. Why get his hopes up for nothing?

No, Ben had no idea what to expect, was frankly expecting nothing at all, but he certainly, in no known universe, was expecting _that_.

The coat closet had been converted into an oasis. Subtle, glowing fairy lights twinkled along the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft glow. Fake snow, soft and plush, lined the floor, cascading into small cozy piles in various places to create the illusion of snow drifts. A small fake Christmas tree stood in one corner, fully decorated with lights and ornaments, and in the center of the room hung an enormous clump of mistletoe.

If Ben had a romantic bone in his body he would have thought this place to be a small winter wonderland, perfect for a steamy hot cup of cocoa and a festive smooch.

It was certainly not appropriate for the workplace.

As the head of Human Resources it was really his responsibility to take it down, get rid of the temptation.

Ben looked at his watch, and oh, if he left work _right now_ he could make it home in time to watch _Die Hard_ on TNT. That settled that, he decided, closing the door and leaving the coat closet exactly as he had found it.

After all, he never bothered to venture down to the mailroom, no one in their right mind would think he had even seen the damn thing. No one would be any the wiser.

But Ben knew. He knew what was hidden behind the innocuous doors of the coat closet. And he thought about it all night, falling asleep picturing it, and imagining a certain sweet little sales intern looking up at him with doe eyes from underneath that damn toxic mistletoe.

\- - -

Monday morning Ben awoke to a city blanketed in freshly fallen snow. It was still early enough that the traffic and bustle of everyday life hadn’t disrupted it quite yet, still remaining sparkling and white in the bright morning light. He took an extra moment to sip his coffee and gaze out the window, taking in the beauty of the city like this, allowing just one brief moment to appreciate this time of year. Maybe there was something to this holiday cheer thing after all.

It was for this reason, this indulgence he had allowed himself just this _once_ , that he was late getting to work that day, strolling into the office at almost ten after nine. He gave Mitaka a chipper “Good morning,” as he passed by the man’s desk on the way to his own, ignoring his assistant’s concerned inquiry about his tardiness.

Normally, being late to work would give Ben so much anxiety he’d need a Xanax, but not today. Today felt different, somehow, as if the world was new again and full of possibilities.

He stepped into his office and immediately froze.

It was covered floor to ceiling in mistletoe. Mistletoe on the ceiling, on the walls, the chairs, even his damn _stapler_ had the parasite tied to it.

“Mitaka!” Ben nearly screamed.

His assistant appeared in the doorway, all but shaking with fear.

Ben took a breath, reminded himself that it wasn’t Mitaka’s fault, and ordered through clenched teeth, “Take. It. Down. _Now_.”

Immediately Mitaka got to work, grabbing a trash bin and step ladder to reach the taller decorations. Ben resumed his normal morning routine, blood still boiling as he opened his email, fully expecting something from that damn Rey Johnson.

Nothing.

No gloating email, no tempting “your move,” _nothing_.

It was like he imagined the whole thing.

Only he wasn’t imagining it. He was sitting right there watching Mitaka clean up her mess.

“Stop,” Ben said quickly, making his second rash decision in as many weeks. “This isn’t your mess to clean up. Get Johnson in here. She wants to keep making a spectacle then she can clean it up.”

This made sense, Ben reasoned silently to himself as he watched his assistant dutifully follow his orders. Mitaka had better things to do than clean up after some girl playing pranks. It made much more sense to have her clean up after her own mess, teach her some manners.

An hour later there was a small knock at the door. Ben mindlessly mumbled a short “C’m’in,” before glancing up at his visitor.

Oh.

It was _her_.

Rey.

She was actually here, in the flesh, he _hadn’t_ just imagined her. She was here in his office, arms crossed and… was she _scowling_ at him? As if he was burdening her by forcing her to take responsibility for her own actions?

That simply wouldn’t do. No, Ben figured two could play that game. Playing it off as indifferently and coldly as possible, he resumed his work, willing his eyes to stop lingering on her in her pencil skirt and blouse and hair tied up into the most adorable trio of buns he had ever seen. Not taking his eyes off his very important computer screen he asked, “I presume Mitaka told you why you’re here?”

“Mmhmm.” She sounded annoyed, and Ben willed himself somehow not to glance back at her, no matter how curious he was. After all, this was _her_ mess. He was right in this situation. He had the high ground.

“Well, Miss Johnson, clean it up.” His tone was icy, fingers not even pausing as he typed up a brief memo about something that he was sure was very real and urgent and not just a bullshit excuse to keep staring at his computer and not at her.

After a short pause she began moving around the room, gathering the bundles of mistletoe tied in their various colors of string, humming some Christmas song that Ben was sure he knew but couldn’t place. Occasionally when her back was turned to him he snuck a peak, and oh that was a mistake. Watching her reach up towards the ceiling, stretching in her pencil skirt with a slit up the back that was reaching ever higher and that hugged her ass _perfectly_ , nearly caused him to choke on his own saliva.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the eyes now permanently fixed on his computer thank you very much, he watched her get closer and closer and he felt his breathing grow hot and erratic. He realized, as she bent down at what had to be close to a ninety degree angle, reaching across his desk for the stapler, chest almost directly in his face, that the top few buttons of her blouse were open and sweet fuck she was wearing some red lace bra. This had to be some weird dream, some prank that Poe and Hux had come up with to tease him about being single and never getting laid. They had sent this damn holiday vixen into his life to destroy him so they could laugh about it over Friday night drinks.

She took her time untying the mistletoe from the stapler, and he tried his hardest not to look at her chest rising and falling mere inches from his face. He was working. On computer things. There was a spreadsheet and numbers and it was even color coded because he was a professional, dammit.

This random woman from sales was fucking toying with him and he would not give her the satisfaction of thinking she succeeded. No. This was his office, dammit. _He_ had the high ground.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rey straightened, walking to the trash bin to throw out the last of the mistletoe. Standing at his door, hands behind her back as she peered down at him with wide eyes, bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth, she asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, _Sir_.”

It was the sir part that did it. He couldn’t help but flick his eyes up to meet hers, dark and hungry and she’s batting her lashes, dark long lashes that have no business being so inviting.

Somehow, by sheer force of will, he managed to remain composed, not allowing a shred of to inflection seep into his response, ignoring the tightening of his pants. “That’s all, Miss Johnson.”

His eyes returned back to his computer just long enough for her to turn around and walk out the door. He absolutely did not watch her walk away, but he definitely filed the image of how that skirt hugged her hips away for future use.

\- - -

As usual, Ben was the last person to leave the office for the night. He decided to lock the door tonight, just in case. He would hate to get in the next morning to discover a slew of new decorations. It would be a waste of time to have Miss Johnson return to play clean up. It was best to just omit the temptation entirely.

After checking to ensure the door was locked, he turned to leave when he noticed a note on Mitaka’s desk, shimmery gold cursive on light green paper.

_Ben~_

_Meet me under the mistletoe. Tonight. 7pm._

_~Rey_

Ben glanced down at his watch. Five after seven.

Shit.

He practically ran towards the elevator, frantically hitting the down arrow button until the doors opened. He nearly pried them open with his bare hands, unable to get into the small box fast enough. After what felt like an eternity they reopened on the basement level. Doing his best to remain calm, he reminded himself that again, he shouldn’t expect anything. Things like this did not happen to him, and if they did, well, he should proceed with caution.

But nothing about this woman made him want to be cautious. She had infected his life with joy and desire and all because of fucking mistletoe.

Opening the door slowly, he peered into the room.

Nothing.

Empty but for the decorations he had seen before.

She wasn’t here.

 _Shit_.

He walked into the room. Was he too late, had she been here and left? Or was he really going crazy, had he really imagined the whole thing? Maybe it was someone’s idea of a joke. Make fun of loser Ben Solo who lives for his stupid job and has absolutely no social life, no girlfriend, will never find love and—

“Ben?”

He spun around, nearly giving himself whiplash as soon as he heard her voice from the door.

In the doorway, hands twisted together with worry, eyes gazing timidly up at him and her bottom lip yet again caught between her teeth in what he’d one day learn was habitual when she was nervous, was Rey.

His Rey.

Yours. Yours. _Yours_.

Ben took a step towards her out of pure instinct, before he stopped himself. There was still a chance this was a joke, a game. There was still a chance he would be left heartbroken, and for that reason, the final wall refused to fall.

So he waited, in the dead center of the coat closet in the mailroom, he waited. For her to make the final move. She had the high ground, maybe she had always had the high ground. Maybe she’d had the high ground since the first time he’d looked her up in the employee database, since her first email calling him out on his bullshit.

She was wonderful. And she was here, standing in the doorway to a winter wonderland that she had created.

For what?

For him?

Them?

He felt her hand on his jaw and looked down at her, closer now, having missed her advance while he’d been lost in thought with worry, lost in the heavy haze of his own anxiety and doubt.

She’d reminded him, these last few weeks, what it was like to feel hope. Right here, now, standing in this stupid closet, her cupping his face, he knew: as long as she was in his life, he was on the right path. She eased the dread and guilt, the worry and uncertainty.

“Ben,” she repeated, breathless as she stroked his cheek, eyes wide with disbelieve.

Before he could overthink it, talk himself out of it, he reached up and cupped her neck in his hand, pulled her close, closer, impossibly close, and kissed her.

Right there, in the center of the coat room, under the mistletoe, Ben kissed her, and his chest erupted with an explosion of butterflies. It was like the world stopped spinning on its axis. Time wasn’t real. It was just him and her and this moment.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, just so slightly, just to catch their breaths. He pulled away and looked at her and she was _smiling_. Huge dimples adorned her face, plush red lips curved up to reveal pearly white teeth and it was _dazzling_ , heart stopping, the way she looked at him.

“You’re here,” she said, breathy and awestruck, as she smiled up at him.

He nodded, reassuring her and himself that yes, he was here, with her, where he was meant to be. “Sorry I was late.”

“You work too much.”

Ben shrugged. “I…are you real?” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he couldn’t help it. She was being so casual about this. Did she feel it too? This connection between them? Was it all in his head?

“Ben,” she giggled, pulling his face closer to hers, rubbing her nose against his in a pseudo kiss. “I’m real,” she breathed, eyes locked on his. “I’m here.”

His face hurt from smiling so much.

Before he could respond, she pulled him in for another kiss, this one different somehow. Hot and passionate, needy and wet. It was sloppy, the way she devoured him with her mouth, tongue pressing against his. He met her intensity, finding a new hunger and desire building within himself. One hand still on her neck, the other found her waist, and he pulled her into him.

“Ben,” she panted as she came up for air. He didn't relent, peppering her neck with kisses.

“Ben, I need…”

“Hmm sweetheart, what do you need?” He hummed against her throat.

“You,” she breathed, voice needy and desperate. Wanting.

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion he picked her up and spun her towards the wall, smiling at her little squeak of surprise. Her back against the wall, he rested her on his leg, knee bent in support as she straddled his thigh. One hand still holding her waist, his other fumbled in his back pocket. It had been stupid, foolish even, to purchase the small pack of condoms after that email. _Yours yours yours_. But he had been making lots of foolish decisions on a whim and he had figured at the time, what’s one more?

Now he was thankful he had, as he dug through his back pocket for the small foil wrapper.

Rey let out small satisfied moans as she mouthed his neck, covering him in sloppy kisses, grinding down on his thigh and fingers pulling at his hair. The noises she made were intoxicating, and he wasn’t even inside her yet.

At the sound of the wrapper, Rey pulled away from his neck, breath hot on his ear as she whispered into it, “Ben, please. I _need_ you.”

This woman would be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Ben hiked her skirt up as Rey frantically fumbled with his belt and zipper, rubbing him through his trousers as she panted in his ear. “Need you. Need you. _Need you_.”

“Need me where, sweetheart?” Ben teased.

“ _In me_.”

Yeah, she would definitely be his cause of death, no doubt about it.

With her skirt hiked up Ben had a clear view of her riding his thigh, the tiny piece of lace covering her sex completely soaked through. Groaning, he slowly traced his thumb over the fabric, eliciting a loud moan from Rey.

“Ben,” she whined.

“You’re so beautiful, Rey,” he murmured.

“ _Ben_.”

He chuckled at her impatience, his needy girl.

 _Yours yours yours_.

“Tell me again,” he said. “Tell me you're mine.”

She cupped his face in her hand, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Ben, I’m yours. Only yours.”

He never knew it was possible to smile this much.

Slowly, he peeled back the lace covering her sex and ran a finger through her folds, trying to memorize the way her head rolled back and the sound of her moans. She gasped as he inserted one, then two fingers, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in impossibly close.

“ _Ben_.”

He could come just listening to her moan his name. He pumped his fingers inside her faster and faster, enticed by her increasingly louder moans.

“Ben. Ben. _Ben,_ ” Rey chanted louder and louder. “In me, in _me_.”

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Ben purred in her ear as he pumped her full with his fingers. “You need to come on my fingers first. I need to know you’re ready.”

“ _Ben_ ,” Rey whined as she reached her peak, gripping his neck and tugging his face to meet hers in a sloppy kiss.

He grunted as he felt her clench around his fingers, still frantically pumping her through her orgasm, staring at her with worshipful eyes.

As she came down from her high, she took his cock in her hand, rolled the condom on and nudged it towards her center, a mischievous grin on her face. She locked eyes with him as she impaled herself on his already too hard cock and he swore he was dreaming. There was no way she was real. No way he was here with her right now, _inside her_.

“Rey,” he panted as he bucked up into her.

“ _Ben_.”

“I need… Need you…”

“I need you, Ben. I need you…”

“Say it—“

“Yours. I’m _yours_.”

Instantly he felt himself loose control. Furiously bucking into her, he pulled her into him and sought his release. She met his every thrust every pant equally as fervently, moaning into his ear, “Yours, yours, _yours_.”

It was too much. He felt himself spill into her, grunting into her neck, relishing in the feeling on her arms wrapped around him, her mouth on his ear whispering sweet nothings.

She was _his_.

And he was hers.

Afterwards, he kissed her until both their lips were redder than cherries, disposing of the used condom and nestling them into one of the cozy faux snowbanks she had created. He held her close, smiling as she nuzzled into the crevasse of his neck, her arms wrapped around him.

“If the head of HR ever found out about the not safe for work activities happening in this closet he’d have a field day,” she giggled.

Ben huffed out a laugh, running his hand through her hair and peppering her forehead with kisses.

“Sweetheart, I think he already knows.” He pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “And I think he’s okay with it.”

She giggled, eyes twinkling like the strings of lights decorating the walls, and Ben still couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe mistletoe wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading whatever this was!
> 
> Merry Christmas if you celebrate or happy holidays if you don't :)
> 
> Wanna be friends on [ Twitter?](https://twitter.com/adamsnackler)


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